


Illuminated

by tuukkasrask



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-16
Updated: 2014-07-16
Packaged: 2018-02-05 23:13:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1835713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuukkasrask/pseuds/tuukkasrask
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another high school AU in which Tyler Seguin falls for Jamie Benn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Preface (sorta)

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this is going to be my very first fic to post on AO3, and I'm pretty excited! I just wanted to make it clear that some characters in the characters list aren't going to make as much as an impact or appearance in the story as others, and are solely a character to fill the 20-man roster for the team. And of course, I don't claim any ownership of these guys, and the occurrences in this fic are not true whatsoever. I hope you enjoy :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is just a little edit I put together for the fic, and also the roster with the ages of the players and their year in high school. :)

Roster:  
G-- Rask, Tuukka / Price, Carey / Lehtonen, Kari  
D-- Keith, Duncan / Bieksa, Kevin / Määttä, Olli / Hamilton, Dougie / Pietrangelo, Alex / Krug, Torey / Beaulieu, Nathan  
F-- Benn, Jamie / Marchand, Brad / White, Ryan / Eberle, Jordan / Oshie, TJ / Ryan, Bobby / Gallagher, Brendan / Nichushkin, Valeri / Parise, Zach / Seguin, Tyler

  
Tuukka Rask/ 17/ Junior  
Carey Price/ 17/ Junior  
Kari Lehtonen/ 18/ Senior  
Duncan Keith/ 18/ Senior  
Kevin Bieksa/ 18/ Senior  
Olli Määttä/ 15/ Sophomore  
Dougie Hamilton/ 15/ Sophomore  
Alex Pietrangelo/ 17/ Senior  
Torey Krug/ 16/ Sophomore  
Nathan Beaulieu/ 16/ Sophomore  
Jamie Benn/ 17/ Junior  
Brad Marchand/ 17/ Junior  
Ryan White/ 18/ Senior  
Jordan Eberle/ 16/ Junior  
TJ Oshie/ 17/ Junior  
Bobby Ryan/ 17/ Junior  
Brendan Gallagher/ 16/ Junior  
Valeri Nichushkin/ 15/ Sophomore  
Zach Parise/ 17/ Junior  
Tyler Seguin/ 17/ Junior


	2. Chapter 2

High school was hard; everyone at Bethel West knew that. The senior school boasted excellent academics, a great band, and an even greater hockey team. Bethel West's hockey team was the jewel in the crown, the pride of the district, although it had only been established for 9 years. In those 9 years, however, only greatness had been achieved: seven championship titles, four state competition division titles, and every award for most goals in a season has gone to a Bethel West Timberwolf player for the past seven years in a row. 20+ players that have filtered through the hockey program over the years at Bethel West have also been gifted college scholarships, and some even moved on to become NHL draft candidates and players in leagues abroad. Needless to say, the program was one of the best around, especially in Texas, and life as a Timberwolf was nothing short of glorious.

But that didn't take away from the stress of school, and the stress of what the future might hold, especially for Tyler Seguin. Tyler, a Canadian transplant that transferred to the Texas school for hockey his freshman year, experienced a mid-life crisis what seemed like every six weeks at the final grading period. He was typically a good student-- as good as a student that balances advanced classes, a social life, club hockey, and school hockey is ever going to get, with straight B's on his report card except for the C in US history because his teacher for the trimester was an absolute prick. He was the star forward on varsity, well-liked by his teammates, and liked even more by nearly every properly-functioning girl on campus. His best friend from the moment he stepped onto the ice at Bethel West's impressive, multi-sport facility was Brad Marchand, a stocky, hawk-nosed guy with sparkly eyes and a ridiculously witty and loud personality. Brad cracked a joke about being a freshman and a bender, with a twinkle in his eye, after coach introduced him to the team. He was pretty sure if it was anyone else, he would have and should have been insulted, but from then on the older boy became his Marshy and they were inseparable.

  
A few others Tyler became especially close with from the team included Zach Parise, Jordan Eberle, and Carey Price. Zach was the all-star, all-American golden boy: starting center and captain of their varsity team, president of junior student council, perfect straight-A student, and even managed to play varsity baseball in the off-season. Tyler felt honored to even be graced by Zach's presence at times because he was kind of like the Ark of the Covenant (in that Tyler felt like a piece of poo in comparison and almost unworthy to be his friend). Zach always shrugged that off and told Tyler he didn't want to be known as perfect, he just wanted to be a good guy. And he was.

  
Jordan, thankfully, was a little more lowkey and didn't make his self-esteem levels plummet. While he maintained A's and B's in his regular classes, his primary focus and priority was his hockey. Ebs was assistant captain on var and a goal-scoring machine in the second line. He could be quiet and kept to himself at times, but when you get him home, comfortable, and playing NHL on PS3, he becomes an entirely different person.

  
Pricey was just your typical goalie: smart, always there for you, and just a little bit strange, but in a good way. He was particularly good with the ladies, but never followed through into relationships for fear of losing sight on hockey. Pricey was the kind of guy you could call at three in the morning because you can't sleep and you can't stop freaking out about the future, and ten times out of ten, he would answer. Tyler always did that, always called and vented and almost cried, and Carey never let him down once, in that instance or on the ice. Having the goalie's support made Tyler feel so secure, and he had no idea what he'd do without him.

  
Tyler was genuinely blessed to have the great friends that he had. Not only were they incredible teammates, they were his brothers that fended for him, cared for him, and kept him from jumping off the deep-end. Marshy was his other half, his favorite liney, and practically the love of his life. Zach helped Tyler with his impossible pre-cal homework and "bull-shit" English essays. Jordan would invite him over for a couple beers and NHL marathons to blow off steam. Carey would just chill and be, in a way, his shoulder to cry on, his therapist. Tyler enjoyed whenever they all got together though; they were a lot like one big hockey family.

 

Something that a lot of the guys on the team hated was Saturday morning skate. Tyler loved it, loved waking up with the sky grey and glimmering with the delicate rays of the rising sun. More often than not, Brad slept over at his, so they carpooled to the facility in Tyler's black pick-up truck around 7.30am and headed to the changing room. Once they were dressed out, sometimes in pads and sometimes not, they wandered down the hall and to the rink. Usually, Zach and Pricey were already skating. When they geared up completely, Zach would shoot on Pricey from different ranges and spots on the ice or take penalties. Little by little, their teammates and coaches would arrive, and light practice would begin.

Tyler skated alongside Brad around the perimeter of the rink, watching his teammates pass the puck around and wait on coach.

  
Marshy bumped his shoulder shoulder gently. "How are you feeling, Seggy?"

  
"Fine, just a little sleepy still." Tyler replied, yawning and smiling smally at his best friend.

  
"Shouldn't have stayed up playing NHL 'til 3, eh?" he laughed.

  
Tyler skated ahead of Marshy and shifted his body to face him. "It was your idea. Plus, I was kicking your ass," he reminded the shorter guy, lightly cross-checking him with his stick. "I was having too much fun."

  
Brad grinned wolfishly and slashed at Tyler's ankle. "You say it like I tied you up and forced you to."

  
"Now that I think about it, I wish you did tie me up. Sounds kind of hot, Marshy."

  
Brad swung his skate path a little wide before dropping a shoulder and driving Tyler into the boards. "Don't get me all worked up now," he growled, skating off with a wide grin on his face.

  
"Hey, you know, you guys should get a room! Beds are a lot more comfortable than ice!" Jordan called from across the rink where he stood with Pricey and Zach.

  
"Fuck you, Ebs!" Tyler chuckled, skating a little quicker to catch up with Marshy again.

  
"I don't think it's Ebs you want to fuck, Seggy." Carey chirped, circling around the back of the net to retrieve a loose puck.

  
Before Tyler could come up with a witty response, a familiar whistle trilled down the hall, and shortly after, Coach Howard emerged from the dressing room and entered the rink. Coach Howard was a man of tall stature, with broad shoulders and piercing dark eyes. His facial features were strong, characterized by a defined jawline and cheekbones, and he had great, well-styled hair the color of a melted chocolate bar. He was pretty young for being such a decorated and experienced coach, only thirty-something, and was a personal favorite amongst the female population of Bethel West (including the faculty). Howard worked them pretty hard at times when it came to conditioning and weight training, but he was always fair and always found a way to implement fun games and incentives into drills. It was excruciatingly tough, but living up to the prestige and expectations of the program was well worth the endless effort, sweat, and passion they all poured into their play.

  
All the boys gradually skated to center ice and surrounded Coach Howard expectantly, waiting for him to pick his poison.

  
Howard nibbled on the mouth of his whistle before letting it fall from his lips and dangle from the lanyard around his neck.

  
"Alright, boys, we're going to start off on line today, then scrimmage 'till about a quarter past ten." he explained, scanning his eyes over his squad. "I won't keep you too long this days until season because I know y'all need to focus on schoolwork. Sound good?"

  
"C'mon, Howie, we did suicides all practice yesterday," TJ groaned, more to get coach going than to actually complain.

  
The guys laughed collectively and Howard cracked a smile. "This is why you're in the third line."

  
TJ feigned hurt, raising his hands defensively. "My line's PK unit, so I win this battle." he joked.

  
Howard shook his head good-naturedly. "Guys, I want us to focus on just a few things today. I know y'all like the idea of scrimmaging, but I want you to make connections with your linemates. Season is starting in a couple of weeks, and I want us to be a tight-knit group. Two of our many keys to success in the past is brotherhood and chemistry. So keep that in mind as we get on to playing. Okay?"

  
The guys nodded and said things like 'yes, sir' and 'yes, coach'. Howard gestured to the goal line farthest to the left and put his whistle into his mouth.

  
"Okay, good. Now line up on the goal line so we can get these out of the way."

  
Somewhat grudgingly the team skated to the line and poised themselves behind it, mentally preparing themselves for the physical toll of suicides. On Coach's whistle, the guys exploded off to the blue line, back, center ice, back, the next blue line, back, and then goal line to goal line. In between, coach gives then recovery time in which they skate a lap round the rink and start another side.

  
Suicides were hell, just like yesterday and always, but they were over quick and before the boys knew it, they were circled up at center ice going through routine stretching and separating into their lines. Carey was starting netminder, so Lehtonen and Rask, the two back-up goalies, would switch off between the pipes in practice on the other end. As Howard waited for his players to wrap up their stretching, Jordan raised a hand in question.

  
"Coach, I noticed there's only seventeen of us. Where are our three other guys?" he queried.

  
Howard gestured at Jordan with the end of his stick. "Great question, Ebs, I'm glad you asked," he said. "I've been doing some scouting lately, especially over the summer, and I've noted a few prospects. So you guys will get to meet some new players hopefully by the end of this week. There are at least three that have accepted and gotten back with me about my offer of transferring."

  
"Where are they from?" Kevin called from the back of the group.

  
"Two are Canadian, one is Russian."

  
"Oooh, a Russian. How exotic." Brad cooed, grinning and digging his shoulder into Tyler's side.

  
Tyler smacked him away, trying to keep his laughter under control and his balance in check so he wouldn't flop on the ice like an idiot. Whenever he and Brad were together, though, there wasn't much they could do about doing dumb things. The two of them were either wrestling or hitting each other with their sticks or purposefully shooting pucks at each other, or, worst of all, planning pranks to pull on their teammates. Last year at a morning skate session, Tyler and Brad poured an entire bottle of baby oil inside of Tuukka's mask and on his glove, and scrambled off to the rink shrieking and giggling because the netminder left the bathroom a lot sooner than they had previously anticipated. As they were skating around and shooting the breeze before Coach arrived, there was a loud crash that sounded in the changing room before Tuukka stormed from the hall, waving his stick wildly and looking a little greasy in the hair and face from the baby oil. He chucked his stick against the glass and screamed, "BRAD AND TYLER, I'M GOING TO FUCKING MURDER YOU TWO!!!" In short, Tyler and Brad were very scared, and neither of them dared to shoot on Tuukka during that entire session.

  
Howard now squinted down at his clipboard that is more often than not tucked underneath his arm and barked out the lines, their arrangements, and keys he wants them to rememeber.

  
"Seguin, Parise, Marchand, Krug, and Keith are starting line in blue. Y'all don't get Pricey though, so organize on the end with Tuukk and Lehts." he ordered, then glanced back down to his lineup card. "Ebs, Osh, Ryan with Pricey, and your d-men are Juice and Dougie. The rest of y'all have a seat on the bench and listen for changes."

  
Howard paused and clicked his pen, scribbling down secret notes on the clipboard gripped in his strong hands. "..'Kay, guys? Remember: focus, connections, poetry in motion. Let's make this work!"

  
At the clap of Coach's hands, the guys put their gloves in the midde and shouted, "Work!" then skated off to their end of the ice or the bench. The incomplete remainder of the squad, Määttä, Beaulieu, White, and Pietrangelo, nestled in against each other on the bench and peered over to watch and study their teammates. Howard, after carefully setting his clipboard down and putting his own gloves back on, skated over, poised his whistle and blew, then dropped the puck between Tyler and Bobby for the face off. Tyler threw out his arms, darting his stick past Bobby’s' and curling it around the puck to send it far and back to little Torey who was always anticipating that backpass. He handled the puck, going up a couple paces before hearing Brad scream for it at the blue line. He deked out Ebs and dumped the puck down the boards so Brad could chase it. Brad had the wheels to get there behind Pricey's net and did, but was greeted by Kevin who mercilessly slammed him into the boards, filched the biscuit, and passed it off to Dougie so it could be cleared.

 

Both sides were equally matched. The great thing about their varsity team is that everyone's skill level peaks at the same point basically. Although some may have their advantages at certain things, like Tyler or Zach's speed, or Brad's strength, they were all up to par in experience, talent, and passion for the game. By the end of practice, their chests were heaving and their legs burned almost excruciatingly, signalling an amazing session. Tuukka and Kari's side won 3-2, Brad, Tyler, and Olli the scorers. Unsurprisingly, Marshy and Segs assisted each other's goals, and when Coach tugged Torey for Olli, it took hardly any time at all for the lanky blond to score a screamer from just past the blue line. TJ scored the two goals for his line, one assisted by Kevin and Ryan White, who was put in for Bobby, and the other an unassisted grind from the face-off spot and sniped top shelf. Coach corralled them in with the trill of his whistle and applauded them for "such pretty hockey". They talked tactics, and some little things Coach wanted to adjust, like backcheck and marking, and then they were dismissed.

  
"Great work today, guys. Almost time for season. See y'all Monday!"

 

+

  
After Tyler has rinsed off and was dressing at his locker, Ebs approached him, toweling off his hair.

  
"Hey man, Chad and Preston are throwing a party at the lake. Preston's dad bought them a keg. Wanna go?"

  
Tyler tugged his t-shirt over his head and smoothed it out along his torso. He grabbed his stick of deodorant and rolled it onto his armpits before tossing it into his bag.

  
"Hell yeah! Are we gonna ride together?"

Jordan quirked a smile and shrugged, and began dressing at his locker across the way. "Sure, you can drive to mine around four. The party isn't 'til like, 6, but you know the lake is kinda far from us." Ebs explained.

  
"Alright, sounds good! Anyone else going, like Zach or Pricey?"

  
Jordan laughed. "Zach has to study," he wrinkled his nose and waved his hands in a manner that had Seggy laughing too. "Pricey said he might go. We'll just have to scoop him up, surprise him."

  
Carey waddled in and plopped down on the bench, unfastening the straps of his leg pads. "You guys know I hate surprises."

  
Tyler bent down to zip up his bag and hoisted it over his shoulder. "Well, I'm gonna invite Marshy, and I'll see you later, bud."

  
The shorter guy grappled Tyler's hand in a firm, bro-handshake, then sat by Pricey and continued to pack up his things.

  
"That's right, don't wanna leave your boyfriend out of all the fun." Ebs teased, winking.

  
Tyler flipped him the bird playfully and walked out of the changing room, down the hall, and out of the facility to his truck. Marshy was sitting there on the curb by the front tire with his bag between his legs, playing a game on his phone or something. He was bundled up in his Northface jacket, collar popped to block the chill, and his favorite black beanie. Tyler didn't know how many times he's told Marshy he looked dumb with it on, but the short guy didn't care, wore it anyway.

  
Tyler jingled his keys upon approaching Brad and his truck. "Hey, you got out of the changing room quick."

  
Brad looked up, a little startled, then stood and grabbed his bag, shoving his phone in his pocket.

  
"Yeah, I don't know... just wanted to get out of there. Tired," he muttered, moving to the back of the truck.

  
Tyler gave his best friend a look and dropped his bag in the bed, then took Marshy's from his hands and stowed it away with his. He noted that Brad was acting a little odd, not meeting his eyes and talking in short, brisk sentences. He’s been doing this a lot lately; it just wasn't like him at all, and it had Tyler worried and very much thrown off.

  
They climbed into the truck and fastened their seatbelts in silence. Tyler considered turning the radio on to ease the tension, but decided not to, as he was keen on figuring out what was up. He knew how much Brad loved to party, so maybe the idea of the lake will get him out of his mood.

  
"Hey, you know Chad Williams? He and Preston are throwing a party at the lake. Ebs invited me." Tyler glanced over at Brad. "Wanna come?"

  
Brad seemingly drew into himself, shifting and leaning against the window and resting his chin in his hand.

  
"I don't know, Seggy," he said, his voice almost inaudible.

  
Tyler took one hand off the wheel and nudged his shoulder. "Dude, come one. There's gonna be a keg." he insisted.

  
Brad's eyebrows cinched a little and he shook his head. "Seggy, I just wanna stay home. I don't feel like going anywhere."

  
Tyler turned left into Brad's neighborhood and took another look at him. "Feeling sick or something?"

  
Brad only shook his head again, rubbing his eyes.

  
 _What the hell is wrong with him?_ Tyler wondered, making a couple more turns before cruising into the circle drive in front of Brad's gigantic, majestic house. The truck lurched as he shifted into park and faced Brad, searching his face for anything that might give away his malfunction. For the first time since practice, Brad made eye contact with him, nibbling his bottom lip almost nervously.

  
"Just chill with me, Tyler. Come on. We always relax on Saturdays." Brad pleaded, his green eyes twinkling insistently.

  
"You don't want to party?" Tyler sighed, dropping his hand to his keys that were still jammed in the ignition.

  
He could feel himself losing out and giving in to Brad's pleas.

  
"I mean.. yeah, but let's just stay home. Please. Just this once?"

  
Tyler stared at Brad for a moment before swearing under his breath and tugging his keys out of the ignition and pocketing them. He stepped out of his truck and locked it up as Brad hopped out and led the way up the drive to his doorstep. While Brad fiddled with the lock, Tyler punched his shoulder, half out of irritation and the other half in adoration. Brad had him wrapped around his finger.

  
"You're lucky I love you, Marshy," he said. "and you better have beer."

  
The shorter guy pushed on the front door and looked back at Tyler with a smile, letting them into his house.

  
"When do I not?"

  
Tyler felt a lot better now.

  
Once they got inside and upstairs, he sprawled out on Brad's bed while he called Ebs and let him know that he was staying in instead of heading out to the lake, which earned him a laugh and a couple teasing jeers about him and Marshy. The call ended, and he tossed his phone amongst the covers and pillows and sighed, waiting for Marshy to return with their beers. He felt around the bed, grappled the remote, and turned on the tv. As he was flipping through channels, his best friend padded into the room, fingers gingerly curled around the necks of bottled Coors and a familiar looking plastic blue package tucked under his arm. Brad stepped over a pile of dirty clothes and a hockey stick before springing onto his bed, landing more on Tyler than the actual mattress. Tyler let out a strangled cry as Brad's knee dug into his thigh.

  
"Marshy, you fatass fuck, get off!!" he groaned, squirming and shoving him away.

  
Brad rolled off, laughing heartily, before nestling his head into the crook of Tyler's armpit and handing him one of the bottles. He set the blue package, they were Oreos, on the other side of them.

  
"Need me to open it for you, princess?" Marshy asked in the gushiest baby voice he could manage, already taking a pull on his beer.

  
Tyler rolled his eyes and snatched the bottle, twisting the cap off with ease and tossing it into the wastebasket beside Brad's desk. "Fuck you, and hand me some of those cookies."

  
The two of them were absolutely comfortable tucked neatly against each other in Brad's bed, snacking and sipping on their beers. On the tv, Rachael Ray was teaching them how to make "delectable turkey burgers" and a peach barbecue ketchup to compliment them (which didn't sound appealing in the least, in Tyler's opinion), when Tyler felt something cold on his stomach. He glanced down to see Marshy nudging his shirt up with his beer bottle.

  
"Marshy,"

  
The older guy looked up through his thick eyelashes, then took the bottle away from Tyler's belly and gulped down the rest. He leaned heavily against his teammate as he placed the bottle on the floor, along with the package of Oreos, and drew himself up again. Tyler watched nervously, his heart in his throat as Brad slid on top of him, splaying his palms out over his chest. They were so close, so close that the air between the two of them was heavy with the biting scent of alcohol. They had fooled around many times before, and kept it between the two of them obviously, but it had been awhile since the last time they had done anything. He started to appreciate the fact that he didn't go to the lake with Ebs.

Brad tilted his head and inched closer until their lips brushed and locked firmly and their pulses throbbed in their temples. Tyler tucked a leg around Brad's waist and grabbed at his shoulders and neck in attempts to bring his best friend as close as physically possible while they went at it. He let out a breathy moan and Brad pressed his crotch down against his thigh and kissed down his chin and neck hungrily.

  
They continued like this for what felt like eternity. Tyler managed to impose his height advantage and rolled Brad onto his back, grinding his hips against him and sighing into his mouth. Brad bucked up in response, gripping the sides of Tyler's face to suck his bottom lip into his mouth and worry at it.

  
"Tyler," he whispered against his lips, tugging at his hair. "take your pants off."

 

He didn't need to be told twice.

 

Tyler climbed off of Brad and fumbled with his zipper, but got it down and kicked his jeans off shortly after and dumped them on the floor, leaving him in his increasingly snug American Eagle boxer briefs. Brad sat back on the edge of the bed and studied his best friend as he carefully settled again. His cheeks were painted pink with blush, and his lips were wet and swollen and pouty as ever. Brad slipped his hands up and down Tyler's thighs fleetingly before he tucked his fingers into the waistband of his underwear and slowly removed them, revealing his hard, aching member. In little to no time at all, he curled his saliva-slicked hand around Tyler's dick and tugged and twisted until Tyler was whimpering and seeing stars. They locked eyes, or tried-- Tyler could barely hold his eyes open at this point-- and Brad ducked in and smushed their lips together, tongue licking and lapping insistently.

 

He pulled back, biting and sucking on Tyler’s bottom lip. “Come on, baby, come on,” he murmured, pumping his fist a little faster up and down Tyler’s dick, eliciting the most erotic groans and cries from his best friend's throat.

Minutes ticked by while Brad jerked Tyler off, and Tyler couldn't contain himself any longer, reaching out and tightly lacing his fingers with Brad's unoccupied hand and bucking animalistically into his other hand. Brad knew how close Tyler was, so he leaned forward and attached his lips to his neck, kissing and sucking and trying to get him over the edge.  With a couple more flicks of the wrist, Tyler choked out-- "Fuck, Marshy... _ohhhh, fuck!_ "-- and whined and came in waves on Brad's grey practice shirt, and probably almost broke his teammate's hand in the process.

Tyler seemingly lost all structure to his body and sagged backward into the mess of covers like a noodle. Brad wiped his hand on his jeans, then crawled on top of him gingerly. He rubbed their noses together, softly kissing Tyler's pink lips and brushing his fingers over his forehead. He waited until Tyler opened his eyes, and smiled sweetly.

"Happy you stayed over?"

He smirked, catching his breath, and rubbed Brad's neck. "Of course,"

  
Brad rolled off of Tyler and he stretched out, arms high above his head and back arching off the bed. "Even if we didn't fool around, I'd still be happy I stayed over. You're my best friend, Marshy."

  
"You got cum on my shirt."

  
"Oops," Tyler sat up and felt around the bed, looking for something. "Hand me my underwear, please."

  
Brad tossed the green boxer briefs at Tyler and proceeded to take his own soiled shirt off, discarding it in the pile in the middle of his floor. He really needed to do some laundry.

  
While Tyler pulled his underwear back on and fished for his jeans, Brad walked to his closet and plucked a new shirt off of a hanger. He watched Brad's back muscles clench and ripple and flex as he pulled his shirt over his head and down his firm, strong body.

  
"Fire up the PS3, Seggy,"

  
He loved their relationship.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie, Brendan, and Val are finally introduced. Brad has a couple meltdowns, but it's all good.

It was the first official practice of the season, and Coach promised to unveil their three new teammates in the changing room before they hit the ice for afternoon sessions. Since the locker room didn't have windows, for obvious reasons, and was a little aways from the entrance from the parking lot, the guys had unanimously voted to send little Torey out to the hall to be a lookout and scope for the fresh meat. So now they waited for Howard, who was also a history teacher for two class periods out of five, to arrive, set up in his office, and bring in the two Canadians and the Russian to meet the rest of the team.

  
The air was thick with anticipation, and despite the happy, upbeat music Dougie put on with his iPhone, all of them were practically vibrating with hints of nervousness and excitement. It was a comfortable kind of nervousness though; they knew nothing bad was going to occur, because Coach would never scout a player that was an outright douchebag, no matter how good he was. Simply the idea of meeting new teammates is what brought the excitement, considering the three players they lost last year were their beloved seniors. Welcoming new players into the family was always a joy to the guys and something to look forward to.

  
Suddenly, loud and erratic thuds of footfalls sounded from the hall and the changing room door creaked and swung open, revealing a red-in-the-face Torey who was just a little out of breath.

  
"They're here!!" he exclaimed, scurrying to his stall. "They almost saw me, that's why I ran."

  
"Well, what do they look like?" TJ scoffed from across the room, looking exasperated that Torey hadn't bothered to address that.

  
"One of them-- I'm pretty sure it's the Russian-- is super tall. Like 6'5 or something. Then one is my height and the other guy is like, 6'0."

  
The guys hummed collectively in thought and carried on dressing and tying up their skates until they heard a couple knocks on the changing room door. Everyone stopped what they were doing, dropping pads, gloves, sticks, tape, and turned their entire attention to the door, waiting for whoever happened to come through it. They could hear Coach's muffled voice outside, probably calming the guys nerves beforehand, and eventually saw his hand as he pushed the weighted door open. He sauntered in, followed by their three new teammates.

  
"Alright, guys, the moment you've been waiting for for three weeks," Coach announced. "here are your three new teammates."

  
Coach gesticulated at the one Torey assumed was the Russian, the tall one. "This is the Russian, Valeri Nichushkin. We'll just call him Val, though," he chuckled, as did everyone else. "He's from Chelyabinsk, and played as a forward in the top junior leagues around Russia. He's a sophomore, speaks a little bit of English, but I know you guys will help him out around the school and with work."

  
Val waved shyly and smiled.

  
Zach stood and nodded at him. "Happy to have you here, Val. We hope you're happy with us, too."

  
The Russian's cheeks pinked and he shifted from foot to foot before nodding back. "Thanks to you. Happy, yes," he said.

  
Coach's eyes twinkled with pride at Zach's captainly mannerisms, and he moved on to the next, much shorter guy. "This is Brendan Gallagher. He's a sophomore and plays as a forward, from Alberta, Canada."

  
"Hey, guys." Brendan greeted, dipping his head and smiling from ear to ear. "Really happy to be here and I'm looking forward to getting to know you guys."

  
Brad leaned over to Tyler and pressed his mouth against the shell of his ear. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone smile so hard in their life," he snickered.

  
"Can you blame him? We're fucking awesome," Tyler whispered back, efforting to keep a straight face.

  
A roll of tape flew across the room in their direction, and they turned to see Carey shooting dangerous looks at the two of them, silently admonishing them. They slouched back against their stalls and closed their mouths.

  
"And finally," Coach continued. "we have Jamie Benn."

  
Jamie was about the same height as Tyler, maybe had an inch and ten pounds on him, and had rosy cheeks and a majestic, dark brown flow. His eyes were light brown, bright and curious and full of life. He was scanning them over the changing room, not necessarily observing his teammates, just looking around at the pennants and trophies and stalls and the wall that separated the showers from everything else and the hall that led to the rehab room. Tyler could hardly keep his eyes off of him, and it was a little strange.

  
"Jamie is from British Columbia, and he's a forward as well." Coach explained, wrapping an arm around Jamie's shoulder loosely. "I was actually thinking about putting Jamie in first line."

  
Tyler felt Brad stir beside him, and instantly his stomach dropped. This was going to be bad.

  
"Who are you gonna bump out then?" Brad demanded. "If Benn is a forward, that leaves either Zach or me, and we all know who the obvious choice is out of the two of us."

  
Tyler put his hand on Brad's thigh, trying to settle him down. "Marshy,"

  
He pushed his hand away and stood to his feet. "Well, Coach?"

  
"Bradley, we can discuss this later if it's really that much of an issue." Coach said calmly. "We are not doing this in front of your teammates."

  
"The guy hasn't even played with us yet, and you want to put him in first line. How the hell do you know he's gonna fit in?" Brad shouted, springing up from the bench and making a move towards Coach.

  
Tyler snagged his arms around Brad’s waist and pulled him back.

  
"Marshy, calm down!" Tyler pleaded, struggling to hold his best friend who was a lot stronger than he was.

  
"Brad, shut your fucking mouth." Kevin demanded in his stern, assistant-captain voice.

  
Tuukka moved in on Brad from across the room and grabbed his shoulders in attempts to help Tyler subdue him, but he fought against them and jabbed a finger in Coach Howard's direction.

  
"You can't fucking drop me from first line for some fresh meat that just came in from Canada. I've been here since my fucking freshman year. I have chemistry with my linemates." Brad snarled. "This is fucking bullshit."

  
He ripped free from Tyler and Tuukka, snatching up his bag, and kicked a pile of pads and gloves before storming out of the locker room and vanishing.

  
The room was silent. Brendan's cheek-splitting smile had vanished. Jamie's eyes appeared dull and stared down at his feet. Val looked confused, like he knew something was wrong but didn't understand enough English to catch what the fuss was entirely about. Tyler sat back by his stall, his face in his hands, and Tuukka patted his shoulder.

  
Coach ran a hand through his hair exhaustedly. "I'm so sorry that you three had to hear that." he paused, and turned to Jamie. "Jamie, don't take that to heart. Bradley is a really great kid, a reliable teammate. You'll love him, trust me."

  
Jamie nodded uncertainly, then raised his eyes and gazed at Tyler.

  
Tyler's heart leaped in his chest at the eye contact, his eyes were so intense, but he bit his lip and held it steadily until the new guy blinked and turned his gaze back to the ground.

  
"I'm going to leave you three to get to know your teammates. Guys, introduce yourselves and make nice, _please_." Coach almost begged, moving towards the door. "I'm going to go find Mr. Bradley,"

  
The moment that Coach left the room, Jamie made his way to Tyler and dropped his bag by his stall.

  
"Hey." he said, cheeks a lot rosier than when he was first introduced.

  
"Hi," Tyler swallowed, nearly choking on his own spit. He held out his hand to Jamie. "Tyler Seguin."

  
Jamie shook his hand briskly and sat next to him. "Jamie Benn.. you already know that,"

  
"Yeah."

  
They sat awkwardly for a minute, watching their teammates surround Val and Brendan and interactt before Jamie turned to look at him again. "So... was that guy your friend?"

  
Tyler nodded, not sure if he could maintain the eye contact so he just looked down at his fingers. "Yeah. He's my best friend."

  
Jamie made a noise in his throat that kind of confused Tyler. He stood and put his hands on his hips.

  
"Introduce me to everyone."

  
Tyler stood to his feet as well. “Okay, well… We’ll start over here,” he said, leading his new teammate and potentially, linemate to the left side of the changing room.

  
“Over on this side is kinda where all the freshman or sophomores stalls are. That’s Nathan, Olli, Torey, and Dougie. Pretty friendly guys, and they’re defenseman.” Tyler explained.

  
Jamie raised his hand in a weird, acknowledging kind of wave.  The four younger guys nodded back smiled kindly.

  
“This is Zach. He’s our captain, and he’s basically perfect,”

  
Zach looked up from meticulously taping his stick and narrowed his eyes at his liney, smiling uncontrollably. “Shut up, Ty, I am not perfect.”

  
“Yeah, yeah,” Tyler dared to duck really close to Jamie and whisper in his ear. “Don’t listen to him, he’s very modest.”

 

Tyler quickly directed Jamie away from Zach to avoid getting speared by their captain.

  
They moved to the other side of the room, where more of the upperclassmen were situated. Duncan and Kevin, being the mature seniors they were, stood upon Jamie’s approach and shook his hand firmly. Carey abandoned strapping his pads onto his lanky legs to introduce himself and made sure that their new teammate knew that if he needed anything, they were all here for him. After meeting more of the older guys, which honestly weren't much older, Tyler and Jamie kind of immersed themselves in the group that had formed in the center of the room around Brendan and Val. Kari, who was typically very quiet, had seemingly latched onto Val, as they were conversing rather enthusiastically. TJ and Ebs had taken a liking to Brendan, probably because he was a little munchkin just like them. It warmed Tyler’s heart at how quickly the guys adopted the new players into the family. Like Coach addressed many times before, brotherhood was one of their strongest suits. It was truly something to be proud of.

  
“So,” Tyler began, turning to Jamie and studying him. “do you love us or hate us?”

  
Blush creeped across Jamie’s cheeks and he laughed a little.

  
“We’re kind of dysfunctional, I mean you saw a little bit ago,” Tyler trailed off, smiling a little. “but we’re a great family, I promise.”

  
Jamie was working up a response, but the changing room door swung open and hit the foam cushioning on the wall behind it with a muffled thud, and in stormed Brad, red in the face and eyes averted, just as viciously as he left awhile ago. Coach ducked his head in and told them all to suit up and hit the ice as soon as possible so they could start practice. The little bunch in the center of the room dispersed, and everyone went to their stalls. Tyler’s heart kind of sank when he looked at Jamie, who glanced at Brad, then him, and moved with his gear where Carey’s stall was without a word.  Tyler stood at his stall beside Brad, who was pulling on his pads and socks on roughly, and unzipped his own bag and began to dress out.

  
“Hey, Marshy--”

  
He turned abruptly before Tyler could say anything else and raised his hand. “Don’t even fucking ask.” he snapped, then bent down to tape his shins to hold his pads in place.

  
Tyler threw his arms up exasperatedly. “What the fuck ever, Brad.” he said loudly, shoving his own tape into his bag and beginning to pull on his practice jersey. “I don’t know what the fuck your problem is these days, I just don’t get it.”

  
Brad glared up at Tyler, sneering and knotting his skates up. “I’d appreciate it if maybe you fucking defended me, you know, your best friend? Your linemate? But you know, it’s cool. I’ll just get bumped down and you and the new guy can have all the fun in the world. Good luck scoring without me.”

  
“What the actual fuck, Marshy!” Tyler yelled in disbelief. “You’re pissed off because I didn’t defend you while you bitched out Coach for nothing?”

  
“For nothing? He was going to bump me down!”

  
Before things got nasty, Kevin and Duncan got in between them and shoved the two of them apart.

  
“This is fucking ridiculous, guys. Get a grip,” Kevin growled, pushing a fully-dressed Tyler out of the changing room to the rink.

  
The whole training session was off.  For Tyler, anyway, and for Brad too.  Tyler watched Brendan, Val, and Jamie as they went through drills and admired their diligence and skill.  When it came to him going through though, he could hardly focus.  A couple times he lost touch of the puck, left it far behind him or tapped it way out of reach.  None of his shots were bar down, either sprayed high or wide, and he couldn’t even go five hole on Carey.  Going through attacking drills was hell.  Coach apparently hadn’t separated he and Brad lines-wise, but then again, he didn’t witness the screaming match in the changing room. Whenever Tyler would call for the puck on the right, Brad would snub him and try to grind through and take a shot. Nine times out of ten, Kevin closed him out along the boards or his shot went out of play. It was pissing Coach off, and Tyler as well.  But obviously Brad wasn’t in the position to be bothered.

  
Coach called them in at the bench after their session and made sure to congratulate Brendan, Val, and Jamie on their impressive hard work.  He talked over a couple more things, and pointedly mentioned brotherhood, his eyes fleetingly glancing over at Brad and Tyler.  A couple minutes later, Coach dismissed his squad, and the guys broke out and skated off the rink.

  
“Brad, Tyler, could you wait for a second?” Howard called after them.

  
Tyler felt himself practically wilt at Coach’s words. He and Brad skated back to center ice where their coach was waiting.

  
“Is everything okay with you two?” Coach asked, his piercing eyes searching the faces of his players. “I sense some sort of disconnect. Y’all were both very off this session, and I don’t like it.”

  
“Look, Howie, it’s cool, we’re fi--”

  
“I was just upset that you were going to separate Tyler and I.” Brad deadpanned. “Tyler is the best friend I’ve ever had and I don’t want to be away from him.”

  
Tyler glanced over at Brad, surprised at the words coming from his mouth. Not too long ago, Brad was ignoring his calls across ice, and even before that, wanting to punch him in the face.

  
“I understand, Brad, and I realize that. You and Tyler’s connection is a big part of our team. You do realize that I would never actually bump you from first line? We shift through lines throughout a game. Everyone has their shift,” Coach explained in an oddly gentle voice. “Jamie would get implemented somewhere. You saw how he plays today. He’s quality and deserves that shot, don’t you think?”

Brad nodded quietly.

  
“Well okay. I’m glad we could discuss this calmly.” Coach said.

  
“Of course,” Brad said. “I’m really sorry about all those things I said.”

  
Coach put a strong hand on Brad’s shoulder. “We already went over that, Brad.  It’s fine. You’re a great kid.” he smiled. “Now you guys need to head on home, I’ll see y’all tomorrow.”

  
When the two of them got back into the locker room, mostly everyone had already packed up their things and left. Brendan and Jamie sat at their stalls and whispered amongst themselves, peeling the tape off their wrists and shins and whatnot. It was hard to avoid Jamie’s gaze as Tyler approached his locker, but he managed to do so and turned to Brad.

  
“Marshy,”

  
Brad looked up at him. “Yeah, Seggy?”

  
Tyler sighed in relief that he actually responded to him, and reached out to brush his knuckles over Brad’s shoulder. “Are we okay?”

  
The shorter guy drew himself up from the bench and wrapped his arms around Tyler’s waist in a firm hug. Tyler’s heart swelled in his chest, and he squeezed his best friend close to him.

  
“We’re okay, man,” Brad murmured into Tyler’s neck. “I’m sorry I'm such a dick,”

  
“It’s fine, Marshy,” he drew away from his best friend and jingled his keys. “Down for some froyo?”

  
A bright, wide grin spread across Brad’s face. “Hell yeah. Always down for froyo.”

 

+

  
The next day, Tyler discovered he had a class with Jamie when he walked into his third-period US history class after lunch.  Usually he leaves campus with Brad to get something to eat because they don’t have classes together, so at least they get to spend a little time during the day before fifth period hockey.  As he dropped his bag and settled into his desk in the back of the room, lips pursed around his straw and nursing on his cherry limeade from Sonic, those intense eyes turned and focused on him. Tyler nearly choked.

  
“Hey, Tyler.” Jamie said from the next row over, a couple seats ahead of him.

“Hey, man,” he replied.

  
Jamie smiled, then abruptly slipped out of his seat with his things and sat in the desk in front of Tyler’s.

  
“I’m kind of really glad you’re in this class,” Jamie admitted. “I don’t know anybody, and Gally and Val are obviously a grade lower than us.  Even then, I don't know them too well.”

  
“Gally?” Tyler questioned.

  
“Brendan?”

  
“Ah,” Tyler laughed, then tilted the styrofoam cup at Jamie. “Want some?”

  
Jamie’s eyebrows rose, and he gripped the straw between his fingers and took a small drink.

  
“That’s good,” he commented, taking another quick sip.

  
“Hell yeah,”

  
The bell rang over the PA, and the remainder of their classmates filed into the classroom that Tyler hated with a passion. All that was missing was his dickhead teacher.

  
Jamie had turned around when the bell sounded, so Tyler leaned over his shoulder and whispered in his ear. “Mr. Rhodes is a prick, just so you know,”

  
“Now, now, Seguin, just because you’re a star hockey player doesn’t mean my rules don’t apply to you,” a tall man said as the classroom door swung open. “Drink goes in the trash.”

  
“I’m not even done with it,” Tyler sassed, rolling his eyes and nudging Jamie’s foot under his desk as if to say _‘see?’_.

  
“Seguin. Don’t make me write a referral.”

  
“Godddddd damnnnnnn, okay.” Tyler sighed.

  
He took a long drink through his straw and, butt still in his seat, threw the drink into the trash can indignantly. Mr. Rhodes eyed him with contempt and shook his head before moving front in center of the room to address the class.

  
“Okay, class, I was considering trimming down the reading for tonight to a handful of pages, but since Mr. Seguin decided to be a little disrespectful, I will be adding on to the reading.”

  
The whole room groaned loudly, and some of their classmates turned and scowled at Tyler.

  
“Love you guys, you’re welcome,” Tyler said sarcastically, arms tucked across his chest.

  
“Fuck you, Seguin,” a guy across the room that Tyler vaguely recognized as either a football player or a wrestler snarled.

  
“Fuck your mom,” he chirped back, absolutely indifferent.

  
He was always to blame for everything in this class, and only this class. As it was previously mentioned, US history was Tyler’s only low grade, and now it’s understandable.

  
“As much as I would love to watch you guys duke it out, I’m going to have to stop you so I can start the lesson that Seguin so _considerately_ delayed.” Mr. Rhodes interjected, settling in his office chair and clicking around on his computer to pull up a power point for their notes on whatever the lesson they had been going over was (Tyler didn’t give a rat’s flying ass at this point).

For the next hour and twenty minutes, Tyler tried his hardest appear interested, solely because he didn’t want any more shit from his teacher.  Mr. Rhodes droned on and on in his obnoxious tone, flipping through the powerpoint slides and referring to textbook excerpts and video clips to supplement more information.  Most students were diligently scribbling down notes, but Tyler decided against that, as efforting to hold his eyes open in the dimly lit classroom was enough work for him.  He really hated this class.

Tyler felt pretty confident that he could keep awake, but he learned otherwise when he felt fingers prodding his shoulder.

He jerked up and looked around, alarmed to find the classroom empty except for he and Jamie.  Suddenly overwhelmed by a wave of self-consciousness, Tyler wiped the drool from his chin and stood, grappling his bag and shouldering it.

“Shit, are we late?”

Jamie laughed. “No, the bell rang a second ago.  I didn’t want to leave you alone.”

Tyler walked out of the class and into the hall.  Jamie followed close behind.

“Well, thank you.  I appreciate it.”  he said, looking at Jamie.  “Do you need any help finding your next class?”

Jamie nodded and handed a folded up piece of paper that Tyler assumed was his printed schedule. “Yeah, it says I have English next in A hall.  Can’t remember where that is.”

Tyler unfolded the paper and scrutinized it, noting history was the only class they had with each other for the trimester.  “A hall is down to the left.  I’ll take you there,”

They walked together, maneuvering through the hordes of slow-walking people that congested the halls of the school.  Tyler led Jamie down the corridor and turned right so that they were in A hall, and stopped by a wall of lockers that was situated in between two classrooms.

“That room on the other end of the lockers is your class.  Ms. Jennifer is pretty nice, so you won’t have problems with her, hopefully.” Tyler informed, handing Jamie’s schedule back to him.

Jamie smiled and took a couple steps from Tyler.  “Thanks for showing me around.”

“No problem, bud.  See you in fifth, eh?”

“Beat you to the facility.”

Tyler grinned. “Oh, we’ll see about that, Benn.”

 


End file.
